Mr. Potter's Penguin #6
Title:Mr. Potter's Penguin #6
Rating:PG 13
Word Count:2,200
Summary:Harry has a guilt trip.
Author’s notes:So, since I apologised to you guys (ref: my apology post), I guess its only fair that Harry apologises to Draco. And I may have used it as an excuse to explain my reasoning too *shrugs*. This does reference the last chapter- just so everyone is clear. I mean, it wouldn't make sense to just leave it hanging in a series. But its still very fluffy and a bit h/c. Give it a chance, I guess? Written for:
awdt's Christmas prompt 8: Angel(s)
slythindor100's Early Bird Prompt: Mismatched stockings
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. This was written for fun, not profit.
Harry yawned and stretched, enjoying the feel of the winter sun on his bare chest. He blinked sleepily in the light, his lips curving in approval at the view from his window. They’d had snow the previous night and the whole countryside was decked in pristine white with frost glimmering on the bare trees and decorating the window sills. Weak, golden sun rays filtered through the windows, bathing the room in a soft glow. Harry smiled and stretched again, his movement dislodging the blankets covering the bed.
Next to him, Draco frowned in his sleep and grumbled in complaint, batting about haphazardly for his warm blanket. Harry grinned fondly and obliged by tucking him in again, kissing away the frown lines on the sleeping blond’s face. Draco sighed and snuggled against him, his expression content and his blond hair fanning against the pillow. Harry trailed gentle fingers down his jaw, struck even after all these years by just how gorgeous Draco was when he was asleep. Like an angel really- all long, golden lashes and pretty, pouty lips. Harry’s fingers drifted to his lips and Draco murmured again, parting them ever so slightly. Harry’s cock perked up, taking due notice. Perhaps it was time to treat his pretty boyfriend to some hot morning sex. Harry grinned at the thought and scrambled out of bed, taking care to tuck the blankets around Draco as he left.
He padded down the hallway and over to the tacky penguin advent calendar holding court on their doorway. Harry had gifted it to Draco for the holidays and so far, it had yet to disappoint. Harry practically bounded over to it, wondering what wonders today held. He pulled open the little door marked 16 and his grin widened as a roll of something red and soft and silky fell into his palm. Harry unwound the beautiful scarlet stockings, trailing his hands down them. Merlin, these were beautiful. Just imagining the soft, sheer material encasing Draco’s silky calves was enough to send his blood running south. Maybe topped off with high heels and a…
His thoughts were interrupted by the press of a warm body against his back and thin arms wrapping around his middle. Harry grinned and turned around, immediately finding himself with an armful of warm blond. “Good morning,” he cooed, stroking Draco’s hair. The blond blinked sleepily at him, then mumbled incoherently and buried his face in the crook of Harry’s neck. Harry smiled and indulged him with a cuddle. It was a rare privilege actually. Draco was hardly the cuddly sort. No, he only clung to Harry like this if he was feeling especially vulnerable or lost or…
Or sick.
Harry’s brow furrowed and he ran a careful hand down Draco’s spine. The blond was shivering. Harry could feel his barely perceptible trembles against his own sturdy frame. He pried Draco away from him despite the blond’s complaining whines and placed the back of his hand to his forehead. He was definitely warm. His eyes were overtly bright and his skin felt dry to the touch. There was no doubt about it.
“You’ve got a fever,” Harry croaked out. Draco was sick. Oh God. He was ill and not well and…and Harry was having a panic attack.
Draco seemed utterly unconcerned. He shrugged and pried his way back into Harry’s arms, curling against his chest with a satisfied sigh. Harry’s hold tightened on him as his throat clenched. He needed to stay calm right now. Draco needed him. He had to think- what does one do with a sick boyfriend? Well whatever it was, letting him shuffle around the house barefoot and in a thin t-shirt was hardly going to help.
“Come on, love,” he murmured, half carrying Draco back to the bedroom. “Let’s get you back in bed.”
Draco followed obediently, unnervingly pliant in his fevered state. His fists clenched around Harry’s shoulders and he stumbled a couple of times but managed to hold on.
“Nearly there,” Harry encouraged, trying to quell down an impending surge of gut wrenching panic. “That’s it. You’re doing great.” He helped Draco in and tucked him in again, shushing him gently as he whimpered. Draco curled against him and quietened somewhat and Harry didn’t have the heart to move and disturb him. When he was sure Draco was asleep, he disentangled himself and raced over to the Floo.
nbsp; ****
“It’s just the flu, Harry. He’ll be fine in a day. Two, tops.”
Harry didn’t really appreciate Hermione’s exasperated expression. He glared at her face flickering in his fireplace. This was serious! Draco was sick!
“Why does he have the flu?” he demanded, “He never gets sick! We keep the house warm. And you know what he’s like about food. How could he possibly get the flu?”
“I don’t know,” Hermione groaned. “Going out without a scarf? Overexposure from the cold? Honestly, Harry. It is winter, you know. You’re acting ridiculous and by the way…”
But Harry wasn’t listening. Overexposure from the cold…the words rang ominously in his ears. Yesterday, Draco had been tied up in the house for three hours while he’d been out. Harry paled. But he had left the warming charms in place and everything…it was just a game they’d been playing. They’d done it before and everything had always been fine. But…but Draco was sick this time. Harry’s heart plummeted, his chest constricting with the sheer force of the guilt.
“I made him sick,” he whispered.
“Beg pardon?”
“Nothing,” Harry managed, trying to ignore the quiver in his voice. “I just…I have to go now. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
He waved her off and put out the fire with a quick flick of his wand. And then he slumped down on the floor, trying to stamp down the tidal wave of guilt threatening to drown him.
****
Draco woke up, feeling sluggish and groggy. His joints ached and he felt ridiculously light headed. He hated being sick. Almost by instinct, he reached out for Harry. His eyelashes fluttered in surprise as he immediately found himself gathered and hauled up against a broad, firm chest.
“You’re up,” Harry murmured, stroking his hair back and peppering his burning forehead with gentle kisses. The kisses trailed down to his jaw and Draco hummed in approval when Harry’s lips slanted against his own- until he came to his senses and leaned back.
“What’re you doing?” he slurred, trying to squirm off Harry’s lap. “You’ll…you’ll get sick too.”
“I don’t care,” Harry insisted, holding him in place with a hand behind his head and kissing him firmly. When he broke away, Draco found himself staring straight into green eyes that seemed just a tad too bright. “Harry?” he murmured, tracing a hand down his jaw. “What’s the matter?”
Harry smiled, although it looked like a grimace- a painful one. Draco didn’t like it. “I’m just…I’m glad you’re okay,” he insisted.
“Of course I’m okay,” Draco said slowly, wondering what this was all about. “It’s just a cold and…you’re here. And I…Harry?” His boyfriend let out a shuddering breath and pulled him closer, burying his face in Draco’s neck. Draco stayed stock still, shocked out of action until he felt Harry shaking against him. Draco felt the stirrings of panic in his gut as he wrapped his slim arms around Harry’s neck, anchoring himself around the upset man. Taking a deep breath, Draco calmed himself and launched straight into Harry management.
“Okay, Harry. I’m going to need you to calm down,” he murmured, rubbing Harry’s shoulders gently. “We’re going to work through it, okay? Just breathe and tell me what’s got you so upset.” Harry shook his head petulantly and Draco huffed. “Don’t make me use Veritaserum on you,” he warned, half serious.
“You got sick,” Harry mumbled fretfully, still hiding in his shoulder.
“Yes, I’m aware of that,” Draco drawled. “It’s very helpful having you blubbering all over me while my head is pounding and my bones ache, by the way.”
Harry released him with a mumbled apology and scrubbed his face awkwardly. Draco’s gaze softened. He was really upset. “So this is just about me being sick?” he asked, running a calming hand through Harry’s messy hair. Pained, green eyes stared back at him and Draco felt his stomach clench. “Harry…just tell me. Its okay, I promise.”
“It’s not okay!” Harry finally burst out. “I left you tied up and you got cold and now you’re sick! You never get sick but now you have the flu and it’s all my fault and I-I don’t know how to make it any better! I’m so, so sorry…I just…I didn’t mean…I…”
Draco’s jaw had dropped somewhere in the middle of this freak out and he continued to gape as Harry flung himself at him again, sniffling and shaking and muttering I’m sorry over and over and over again. The blond was completely blindsided and for a second, he just sat there listening to Harry guilt trip himself to death. Then he shook himself firmly, trying to get a hold of the situation. “Okay, Harry. I’m going to need you to look at me, alright? I need to say something to you. Come on, let go. It’s okay.” Slowly, but surely he pried his boyfriend off, stroking Harry’s hair carefully. His heart clenched as he saw how upset the other man was. “You really worked yourself into a state over this, didn’t you?” he murmured, running his hands up and down his shoulders. Contact seemed to help keep Harry grounded.
“Feel any better?” he asked after a while, taking Harry’s hand in his own slender ones.
Harry nodded imperceptibly, eyes trained on their intertwined hands. He looked like a little boy, all lost and unsure with his messy hair and big, green eyes and guilty expression and Draco couldn’t help kissing his cheek softly. “Git,” he murmured. “It wasn’t your fault. Not even a bit.”
Harry shook his head firmly. “It was. I left you like that and you got cold. You got sick. I made you sick.”
“You did not get me sick,” Draco drawled. “You left a Warming Charm around the house. I’m the one who didn’t recast it. It dissipated and I could have cast another one, but I didn’t. I was careless.”
“You were tied up!” Harry retorted, waving his arms indignantly. “You were helpless! How could you possibly have cast …ouch!” His rant ended in a surprised bark as a sneaker flew from the other end of the room and smacked him on the side of the head. Draco smirked at him, leaning back insolently on his hands.
“You were saying?”
“Whatever,” Harry groused, rubbing his head. “So you’re exceptionally good at non verbal spells and wandless charms. Doesn’t mean I should have left you alone like that. When we’re… playing like that you’re my responsibility. I’m supposed to make sure you’re alright. But I left and… what if something had happened? What if…what if the fucking house caught fire? What if you had a panic attack? I could have lost you or…or hurt you and what would I have done then?”
Harry’s voice broke and this time Draco pulled him into a hug, shushing him all the while. “Hush. It’s okay. It’s all okay, Harry. Just calm down, yeah? I’m right here. I’m safe and I know you’d never let anything happen to me. I know that. And you should too.”
“But…”
“No,” Draco cut in, hands firm on Harry’s face. “You said your piece. Now I’m going to talk and you’re going to let me. You need to listen to me now. Can you do that?”
Harry swallowed but nodded slowly.
“Okay. That’s good. I want you to know that you, Harry James Potter are the one constant in my life. You’ve been around ever since I was an eleven year old with a minor superiority complex…”
“A minor…”
“And since you promised not to interrupt I’m just going to talk over you. You’ve been there through everything- you were there when I played my first Quidditch match, you were there at my first duel…”
“Where you threw a snake at me, by the way.”
“That was decades ago, Potter. Get over it. And you were there when I found myself in the middle of a War.” Draco’s eyes softened as he met Harry’s gaze steadily. “That was the first time you saved me. From the fire. Then we went back to school and there you were again. And no matter how hard I tried to avoid you, you…you stayed. You saved me again, you know- by becoming my friend when no one else wanted to give me another chance.”
“I couldn’t let you fade away like that,” Harry said softly. “I would have missed you too much.”
“Obviously, Potter” Draco smirked. “But since you insist on interrupting me the point I’m trying to make is- you’ve been rather consistent in saving me. You saved me then, and you’ve been saving me ever since you gave me…this. Our life. Together. And there is not a doubt in my mind that you’ll be there the second I need you.” He clambered back on Harry’s lap and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend, ghosting a kiss over his lips. “I didn’t panic for a second. I was perfectly safe. I swear it. You have nothing to feel guilty about.”
“I still shouldn’t have left you,” Harry insisted, nipping at his lips.
Draco smirked into the kiss. “Well, I suppose you could make it up to me by giving me my present.”
“No,” Harry muttered, sounding like he was trying very hard to stay firm. “No presents. You’re sick. You need rest and soup and…other stuff I should probably ask Hermione about.”
“Presents would make me feel better,” Draco insisted. With a smirk, he wandlessly summoned the red silk stockings, catching them neatly as they flew into the room. “Helpless, my arse,” he scoffed, waving them at Harry.
“Show off,” Harry grumbled. Draco smirked at him and turned to admire his pretty present. Harry grinned and pulled out his wand, immediately transfiguring the stockings. Draco glared at him as he found himself holding a pair of thick, cotton socks.
“Oh you’re funny,” he groused, poking disgustedly at the socks. “They don’t even match!” Indeed, the ill shaped pair was a stark mismatch- one sock was red with white stripes and the other was green with white spots. Harry didn’t care.
“They’re warm and you’re wearing them until you’re better,” he said firmly. Draco raised his chin defiantly and Harry sighed. Apparently, bribes were in order. “And of course, I’ll be your faithful servant until then- waiting on you hand and foot.”
Draco’s responding grin was pure evil. “Well, why didn’t you say so?” he purred, pulling on the socks. “Hand and foot, did you say?”
“Like a house elf,” Harry sighed. “So is there anything you need?”
“Well now that you mention it…” Draco smirked as he lay back, settling himself with his arms behind his head and planting one sock clad foot in Harry’s lap.
“…I would love a foot massage.”
Follow up: Mr. Potter's Penguin #7